


Waiting for Dawn

by Suspicious_Popsicle



Category: Tales of Vesperia
Genre: Gen, Post Game, Post canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-29
Updated: 2013-04-29
Packaged: 2017-12-09 22:54:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/778902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Suspicious_Popsicle/pseuds/Suspicious_Popsicle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>A/N: Enjoy. =D</p>
<p>Disclaimer: The characters and settings in this story are from Tales of Vesperia and do not belong to me.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Waiting for Dawn

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Enjoy. =D
> 
> Disclaimer: The characters and settings in this story are from Tales of Vesperia and do not belong to me.

Every time Yuri turned, another enemy fell to his blade. He was a whirlwind of grinning ferocity, unstoppable and beautiful in the way that storms were: all speed and bright sparks, fluid grace that rained down with incredible force to leave destruction in his wake. In the midst of a battle, Yuri was in his element.

The monsters swarmed them; hungry fangs and angry claws made more deadly by the intelligence that drove them. These creatures weren’t maddened by an aer krene that had gone out of balance. They were hunters, all of them, and they had turned their lethal attentions onto Flynn and Yuri. Monsters were, by and large, cleverer than most people gave them credit for. Seeing the focus in the wolves’ eyes, the way they worked together to separate the humans they intended to make a meal of, the way their lolling tongues and bared teeth seemed like terrible laughter—all of it combined to unnerve Flynn. There were brief lulls in any battle, but the way his opponents would circle him patiently, grinning their wolfish grins while searching for an opening, made Flynn think they knew something he didn’t.

A wolf charged and Flynn struck out with his shield, as accustomed to using it as a weapon as for defense. The monster dropped back at the hit, snarling and waiting for another chance as its brethren closed in. Slicing and dodging, bashing and wishing like hell he could still use blastia to make this easier, Flynn deflected attack after attack, grimly trying to make his way to Yuri’s side.

Normally, the chaos of a melee of this sort would provide ample opportunities to close ranks and regroup. This time, however, Flynn couldn’t seem to close the gap between them. Yuri was always further away, always separated by the snarling creatures that poured endlessly into the clearing. Every time Flynn made it to where Yuri had been only moments before, he would look up, scanning the battleground to see his friend impossibly far away. The fight had gone on too long, and he was beginning to tire. He wanted Yuri at his back so that they could pool their strength, protect each other, and maybe come up with a plan for retreat.

He saw Yuri in front of him, hair whipping around him like a banner, and Flynn cut through the monsters that stood between them, only to find that Yuri had once more ended up beyond his reach. Yuri flashed him a grin, as if he’d eluded Flynn in a game of tag. Was he not taking this seriously? They were strong, but even they could be overwhelmed, particularly now that they had no magic to fall back on. Since the defeat of the Adephagos, every time Yuri had returned to the capital, he had come back bearing new scars. The world was a more dangerous place, but Yuri still fought as if he was invincible. Flynn could only pray that he was never proven wrong.

Half a dozen of the monsters surrounded Flynn, darting in to nip at his legs. That vicious intelligence shone in their eyes as they harried him, driving him back. One of their number got the drop on him, charging in from the side, using its weight and momentum as a weapon to try to knock Flynn over. Somehow, he kept his footing, though the shock of the impact had carried through his armor. His ribs would be black and blue come the morning, but at least he was still standing. To fall against this horde would mean death. 

He started to warn Yuri, to remind him not to falter or give the wolves an opening, but the words stuck in his throat as a scream ripped through the clearing.

Flynn had never heard Yuri scream like that, but he had heard it from other men, good and bad, who had fallen to the monsters that roamed Terca Lumireis. The whole world felt like it was grinding to a halt as he turned to look, his movements agonizingly slow, made sluggish by the cold fear that was squeezing his chest and spreading through the rest of him. 

He saw Yuri, white as the marble of the palace, his face a mask of shock, not even registering the pain yet. A wolf had leapt on him from behind. Its jaws were clamped around Yuri’s shoulder, and blood stained its maw. One of its front paws scrabbled at Yuri’s chest, claws gouging skin before finding purchase. Another monster seized the opportunity and sank its fangs into Yuri’s leg.

Yuri had just enough time to look up at Flynn, terror on his face, before he was pulled down into a seething mass of ravenous beasts.

“YURI!”

Flynn sat bolt upright in bed, shouting, fighting to get up, to get to Yuri, but succeeding only in tangling himself in the bed sheets in his panic. He fell to the floor, and the impact helped clear his head. He lay there, wide-eyed and panting, reliving the dream in all its horrible detail. It was clear as day, as if he’d been there. He could see every scratch on Yuri’s body, every wound, every splash of blood—

A spasm of pain shot through him and he grimaced, clutching his ribs. He could feel the rough wrap of bandages beneath his nightshirt, and he scrambled to his feet, unsteady as he tore off the sweat-soaked garment. He was shaking and gasping for breath, heart pounding painfully hard in his chest. 

“What…?”

He was swathed in bandages from waist to chest. Gingerly, he prodded his side where the wolf had hit him in the dream. It hurt like hell, and he realized he probably had a cracked rib, at the very least.

“That’s not possible.” His voice was hoarse and tremulous and he coughed, wincing at the pain it caused. “That’s not possible,” he repeated, sounding more like his usual self. “It was just a dream—a nightmare.”

Yuri’s face flashed behind his eyes. He’d tried to call for help, but Flynn had been too late.

“Nothing but a nightmare.”

He’d been injured…he’d been injured in a fight, yes, but…the details were fuzzy. He couldn’t remember very well what had happened. What had he even been doing outside the city? He’d practically sequestered himself in the palace over the last few months dealing with the logistical nightmare that was leading the Imperial Knights after a world-altering near-catastrophe. The only times he had ventured outside Zaphias’s walls had been…had been when he was with Yuri.

“That can’t be right. Yuri is supposed to be arriving _tomorrow_.” 

Reaching up to rub his forehead, Flynn felt more bandages. He hurried to his dressing table and peered into the mirror. Gauze was wrapped around his head at his hairline. In the haze of panic and pain from his injured ribs, he’d missed it, at first. Just as he’d done earlier, he probed, wondering how bad the wound was and how he’d gotten it. The trembling that had only just begun to abate, returned.

A head wound, foggy memories…. He couldn’t have lost an entire day, could he? There must have been some other reason, the dream must have been a product of splitting his focus between work and Yuri’s homecoming and then, somehow, for some reason, going out without back up and being cornered by monsters. The dream had felt so real, but dreams did that sometimes. That didn’t mean anything. If things had actually played out the way they had in that nightmare, he wouldn’t—couldn’t—have forgotten. It would have been impossible to forget that.

Pouring a bit of cool water from the pitcher into the basin, Flynn splashed his face, hoping it would help pull him fully out of the horror of the nightmare. He could still feel himself shaking, but it was growing fainter once more. He took a few deep, steady breaths and glanced at his clock, realizing his comment about Yuri’s arrival was no longer accurate. He would be returning to the capital later that day.

If he hadn’t already returned. If Flynn’s injuries hadn’t scrambled his memories. If Yuri hadn’t been—

“Just a nightmare.” He repeated it silently to himself. It wasn’t real. Yuri would have teased him without mercy for getting so worked up over a bad dream.

He crossed the room to open up his window. Leaning out, he drew a breath of fresh air. It was so early that the capital was still robed in darkness and starlight, the warmth and hope of dawn nothing more than a distant wish.

There was no possibility of getting back to sleep after that, and Flynn wasn’t sure he wanted to, anyway. Instead, he dressed in the dark, his armor as familiar to him as a second skin. The weight of it was reassuring. It grounded him in reality and reminded him that he was not powerless, that he could fight to protect what was important to him. He had to keep telling himself that it had only been a nightmare, nothing more. It wasn’t a memory, it wasn’t even something as ominous as a premonition. He didn’t believe in premonitions. He believed in Yuri, in his strength and skill and the protection of his friends. Focusing on those thoughts, repeating them over and over to himself, Flynn slipped out of the palace and left the city behind.

His destination was the crest of a small hill overlooking the capital, close enough to the city that monsters rarely appeared there. Yuri had brought him to that particular spot, once. They had stood together beneath the single tree and, as he kept his gaze fixed on the view, Yuri had admitted that he loved that place because it was so easy to look upon Zaphias from the outside and see in its beauty the good that should have been intrinsic to the seat of the empire, rather than the corruption that was all too easy to recognize from within. He had, of course, expressed himself much less elegantly, but the thought had carried over well enough and Flynn had taken to visiting the hill when dealing with problems that required a certain amount of contemplation. He wished now that he could recall Yuri’s exact words. He would have to ask him.

Betting on Yuri entering the city by way of the hill, Flynn settled in, trying his best to reassure himself that he would see Yuri, alive and well, in only a few hours’ time. He turned his gaze to the heavens, staring up at Brave Vesperia, and waited.


End file.
